Octavian
by livluvroc
Summary: The 55th hunger games is about to begin!This is just your average hunger games about some slightly crazy guy from district seven. Rated T because is there any hunger games that's not?Hope you like it and please read and review!:D
1. Reaping Day

My name is Octavian, and I am going to win.

Of course, if my name doesn't get drawn at the reaping today, I have nothing to worry about. My life in district 7 can carry on as usual, chopping down trees, sawing of branches, and the occasional days that seem to come less often lately that I work with my mother in the small healer's hut next to our house. But I must be prepared for the worst; at fifteen, my name is entered twelve times because I always take out tesserae to support me and my mother. There are just the two of us.

My mother, Cressida Pahla, was devastated when my father died in a lumber accident after a tree fell and crushed his ribcage; there was no way one of her potions could have saved him. Afterword, my mother wouldn't let me out of her sight for over a year, insisting I stay in the hut, help her with salves, medicines, collecting berries, but always with her. Every day she would hug me and say she loved me, trying unsuccessfully to hide her tears. I know that even now, seven years later, she would not live on without me. If I were to be taken by the Capitol, forced to participate in the Hunger Games, and never come back, she would die. Maybe her body would live on for a few years, but her heart, her soul, would cease to exist.

I cannot let that happen to my mother. I have no control over the reaping, so instead I prepare myself in every way I can for the hunger games, to make sure that if somehow I go, I will certainly be coming back. I have been told I am a little crazy, but I have also heard this is one of the qualifications of a victor. No one leaves the arena unscarred, whether it is physical or psychological. I am not a career; this is not a sport. I hate the hunger games for the pain they bring and understand that there is no honor to be gained, though the careers don't see that. Why don't they realize that a victor is not a hero, but a murderer? Besides, my training is based on survival, not how to kill someone in fifty entertaining ways. I have confidence in my skill, and that it will take me home.

Despite my confidence, when my mother prods me gently and whispers in my ear to get up, I have to resist the urge to stay in bed. Maybe if I don't get up, I can skip today and go straight to tomorrow.

But when I open my eyes a crack, all I see is my mother's beautiful face, creased more than normal upon her brow, and there are bags under her brilliant but worried green eyes that match mine. Her white blonde hair that I also share is disheveled from lack of sleep. She is frightened of the hunger games more than me, afraid I'll be taken away from her. Reaping days I always spend with my mother, waking up at six like any other day to get as much time with her as possible. She deserves that.

Throwing the covers up and swinging my legs onto the floor, I look up at her and smile my best. "No need to poke. I'm awake."

She peers into my face anxiously. "Are you nervous?"

I thrust my arms up and stretch, my shoulder bones cracking, the picture of indifference. "Not really." I decide to change the subject. _Think happy. _"Do you remember that one remedy you made when I was ten? The one that makes you laugh when you smell it?"

"I remember. I had made it by accident. You couldn't stop giggling." She smiles, and her whole face seems to brighten.

"Why don't we make it today?" I suggest. "I could use some laughter." I'm not really in the mood for laughter, but my mother is thrilled with the idea and together we start on it immediately.

It takes the entire morning to make, and by lunch time my stomach is a raving monster because we'd skipped breakfast. But my mother is happy and one whiff of the laughing gas has her chuckling for almost half an hour. I don't try any but smile at her merriment. Laughter makes my mother seem younger, and certainly less broken.

But as our clock strikes one she becomes the sad woman that has been with me since my father died. She shoos me back to the house to get changed, promising she'll clean up our mess.

"Dress in something nice," She tells me, but she doesn't seem to be quite there, like she's not really saying the words.

Quickly I get dressed in black pants, mostly clean, and a red, collared shirt, running my fingers through my light but thick hair. That's as good as it's going to get, and I must say, it's pretty good. When I return to the hut in my reaping outfit, I find my mother standing in the middle of a disaster, staring at a potion, lost in thought. By the time I finish helping her clean up, we need to hurry down to the reaping, arriving minutes before it starts. I slip in with the other fifteen year olds, earning a thump on the back from Jon Meers, and a nod from Sadie Col. They are my best friends, and we've known each other for years, but I rarely mix family with friends, so they know me but not my mom. Jon looks nervous; Sadie looks bored. I turn and focus my attention on the front as our mayor steps up. Behind him are two of our victors, Ballard Kyver and Jetti Myen. The other is a recluse who never leaves his house. I don't know much about these two, except that they are both old, late forties and fifties, and one is crazy.

The mayor begins by telling us about the history of Panem, the rebellion, and the treaty of treason, and practically repeats word for word what he said last year, ending in a good luck. I half listen, but when Collie, our Capitol escort, steps up, I listen carefully, completely focused.

She has turned into a human tree, her skin resembling wood, her hair and dress a deep forest green. No one can doubt she escorts District 7. Her words seem to bubble as she rambles on about how happy she is to be back in District 7. "And now," she says, "The moment you've all been waiting for! Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to pick our lucky tributes for the Fifty- fifth Hunger Games!"

Collie walks over to the one of the big crystal balls. "Ladies first," she purrs, lowering her hand in and rummaging through its contents. She pulls out a slip of paper. I feel the tension in the air as all the girls of district seven hold their breath.

_Not Sadie._ I plead. She would never beat the games.

_Not someone I know._

Collie reads the paper. "Taia Lowes."

A shriek pierces through the sighs of relief from all the girls who didn't get picked. I turn around to see a sixteen year old girl with long brown hair and a stunned expression being slowly prodded forward by her friends, all who wear pained looks. I know her, but not well, which is a relief. She walks to the front in a daze.

"Are there any volunteers?" Collie asks. Silence is her answer. She turns and shakes Taia's hand, smiling. "Congratulations!"

"Th-thank you," Taia stammers. She takes a deep breath and tries to look fierce. I'm not fooled.

"Now for our boy tribute!" Collie sounds too happy.

I feel a sudden tightness in my chest as she heads to the boy's ball. I try to relax, but I can't fight the sudden panic. The boys around me either look nervous or terrified. At least I'm hiding my fear. I know I've trained, but that doesn't mean I _want_ to go. Collie sticks her hand in. I am struck by a wave of anxiety.

_What if….?No. _

Collie picks up a piece of paper.

_It can't be me. It's not me._

She opens the paper.

_Someone else…._

"Octavian Pahla."

At first, I don't recognize the name. _I can't remember my name_. Everyone's staring at me.

_Relax,_ I tell myself when realization strikes, and the reality of the situation threatens to overwhelm me. I make my way to the front to join Taia.

"Any volunteers?" Collie asks. There are none. I search for Sadie and Jon in the crowd and find them holding hands tightly, staring at me, there expressions so stunned they are blank. I think Sadie is crying.

"Congratulations!" Collie tells me. She directs Taia and me to shake hands. As we grasp each other, I stare into her eyes, finding terror lurking behind the clear blue iris'. I feel an urge to protect her, to save her, but a picture of my mother fills my mind. This will break her. There is only one victor. It has to be me.

"District Seven, I give you your 55th Hunger Game tributes! May the odds be ever in your favor!" Collie is smiling, but thankfully no one else is. "Happy Hunger Games!"

As we are ushered off the stage by peace keepers taking us to the Justice Building I quickly scan through ideas, making plans for my mother, and pondering still about Taia. But I can think of no solution to let both of us live, and I owe my mother to come back. I push all thoughts of saving the girl from district seven away. I try to calm my mind, until there is only one thought running through my head. It is the solution to my problems.

_My name is Octavian, and I am going to win._

* * *

><p>The peace keepers direct us to two different but identical rooms that are nice but nothing more. They are bare but for one seat, which I take. I wait for less than a minute before my mother comes running in, her eyes wide with fright and despair. She rushes to me, throwing her arms around me like a noose and squeezing me tight. "My baby," she whispers through sobs, "My baby."<p>

I let her hug me for a moment, then gently pry her off. "It's okay Mom. I'll be home soon." I say this with as much confidence as I can muster. I have to make her believe it. I have to make_ me_ believe it.

Tears continue to flow down my mother's cheeks but her eyes have lost the hopeless gleam, and a hardness has come into them that can only be defined as strength. She reaches up to her throat and grabs the gold necklace that hangs there, and undoes the clasp. She reaches up to my neck and silently loops it around me.

" Mom-," I begin to protest, but she will hear none of it.

"Take it," she insists, "It will help you remember us here, and remind you that you must return home. Here. With me."

The gold chain necklace is our most valuable possession, even more important to her, because my father had given her it. It is packed with good memories and a reminder of events to my family. I realize it will be the perfect token.

"I promise I'll return it to you," I vow. "I will come back." For a moment, I am sure I will.

We hug one last time before she turns to go, telling me my friends are waiting to say their good byes. I can't help but think how alone she looks as she leaves. She is a widow who's lost her only son.

_Not yet,_ I tell myself grimly. _Not for long._

My friends arrive together, Sadie still holding on to Jon, her face white. For someone whose brother was killed in the games at the age of twelve, she is handling this very well. Jon appears calm, his face neutral, so I don't know what he's thinking.

When Sadie sees me she grabs me in a strong grip and hugs me tightly, more fiercely than my Mom. She's not crying, but from her expression she could be. She releases me and takes a step back.

"Show them what you can do," she whispers, and there is a harsh tone in her voice. "Make them pay."

I don't know what to say. Make who pay? The game makers? Suddenly it makes sense. She wants revenge on the people who killed her brother. She wants me to sabotage the games. She believes in me, knows I can do it, and I am flattered. Slowly, I shake my head. I can't do it. That would mean a brutal death in the games.

"I'm sorry Sadie," I tell her quietly. "I'm not going die. They can't beat me. I'm going to win."

She smiles sadly at me. "I know. I thought you'd say that."

Jon steps up and reaches out his hand. I start to shake it before he pulls me into a crushing embrace. "If anyone can do it, Octavian, it's you."

I am humbled by the faith of my friends, but also empowered. If they believe I can win, then I must. I thank them and tell them I'll see them soon. They walk out the door, Sadie dragging Jon by the hand as he gives me one last look. In return I give a small wave. Then they are gone.

I do not expect anyone else to come, so I am surprised to see Muck Brewer, my boss and tree chopping partner, clamber into the room. He looks uncomfortable, like he's not used to being indoors, which is true. Muck has wild brown hair and a layer of dirt for skin, but his soft blue eyes are kind. I jump up.

"Muck!" I cry. If I had to choose only one person to visit me, besides my mother and friends, it would be him. I surprise even myself by giving him a hug. He blushes and I feel very awkward, but he's the closest thing to a father to me and after all the hugs I've been getting I think he deserves one too.

"What are you doing here?" I ask to break the silence.

"Same as everyone else, I s'pose," he says, "'came to wish you good luck. And to give you something." There is a twinkle in his eye. He reaches into his grubby pants pocket.

I start to shake my head. "Thanks, Muck, by I've already got a toke-"I stop as he opens his palm, revealing a beautifully crafted stone charm, flat, round and the length of half my middle finger. On it the symbol of district seven, an axe crossing a hammer on a background of wood, was carved. It has a hole for a necklace to go through. I can't imagine how much time and effort it took to create.

"Muck-," I begin, but he holds up a hand to cut me off.

"Don't complain; it wasn't hard to make. I just want you to remember us here. I don't have a chain to put it on, but I brought some rope…" he holds up a piece of string, frayed at the edges.

It is my turn to stop him. I reach up to my neck and undo the gold chain my mother gave me, dangling it in front of Muck's eyes and grinning at his awed expression.

"No need for the string," I say, "We can just put it on this." I am so glad that I am able to take not one token but two, from two people I love.

Muck smiles, takes the necklace, and slips the charm on before handing it back to me. When it is secure once again around my neck, Muck gives me one final stare, full of mixed feelings. I detect gladness at seeing me, but there is sadness and anxiety for the days to come. Peace keepers come to the door, waiting for Muck to leave so they can escort me to the train that will take me to the Capitol.

"Good luck, Octavian," Muck says as he makes his way to the door. He stops for a moment and I recognize the ghost of a smile on his face, and a hint of pride in his voice. "I have a feelin' we'll be meetin' again soon." He disappears through the peace keepers.

The train is not far from the Justice Building and soon I am on the platform beside the waiting train, blinking from the flash of cameras as our last moment in district seven is covered by the Capitol press. Taia is beside me, tear marks on her cheeks but no sign of them in her eyes. She boards the train without turning back. I take a glimpse of district seven, and in the distance I can see smoke from cabins rising up among the trees. _This is my home._

Suddenly I feel a wave of longing stronger than ever to be here, in this district, my district. I want to come back. The peace keepers are getting restless, waiting for me to board the train. I take one last look.

_If I'm going to come back, I'm going to have to leave._

"Good bye district seven," I say, turning to face the train. I force myself to step into its interior.

"Hello Capitol."


	2. I am a Stylish Tree

**Hello guys,**

**Wow it's taken me a really long time to post this. I hope you ignore the fact that my characters make no sense and have personality mood swings depending on my mood. Other than that, I'm going to sum up not so shortly what happens in the days prior to the arena in as few chapters as possible. You can probably skip most of it if it gets boring. I hope you like it!:D**

The train is the most luxurious accommodation I hav

* * *

><p>e ever experienced, as district seven's beauty lies in its nature. Taia and I each get our own rooms, to which we are directed immediately. There are fresh sheets on the bed, and the floor is soft. <em>Carpet.<em> I enjoy the feel of it between my toes.

After seeing what is hidden in the closet, I strip down and choose a pair of dark jeans, studded with silver rhinestones, and a dark blue collared t-shirt. I debate about changing shoes, but decide to keep my work boots on, so at least something stays the same. At this thought my fingers automatically reach up to touch the cool, stone amulet that now hangs around my neck, reminding me of my pledge to return home.

I am torn between hopping into bed and going back to the dining room to meet with Collie and my mentors. I decide on the latter, reasoning that it would be best to learn what I can as soon as possible so I can have more time to come up with a plan. Who knows, maybe the mentors will be helpful.

As I walk down the hall a door opens and I am joined by Taia, who is wearing a short teal dress that looks good on her. We walk in uncomfortable silence to the dining room, where Collie rises from her seat at the table to greet us warmly.

"Ah, our tributes arrive at last!" Collie smiles at us and gestures to the other two people sitting at the table. "These are your mentors. They will instruct you and give you advice as you train for the games."

They stand up and face us, a man and a woman. The man has dark hair, long and matted, with hazel eyes that seem to glow with a strange intensity as he studies us. My eyes have been described the same way, but I doubt they have that insane look that belong to this mans, who must be Ballard Kyver. The woman, Jetti Myen, looks a little more normal, her long, dirty blonde hair pulled back into a messy pony tail, her blue eyes large and sunken. She walks over and shakes our hands.

"You must be very nervous," she says knowingly, "But I want you to trust me and Ballard. We are here to help you get home." A small, sad smile touches her lips, but her voice remains serious. "We will mentor you our best, but remember that no matter what we say, no one can be prepared for the games."

Taia and I nod, and Jetti does not appear ready to say anything more. But I am not finished this conversation. Apparently neither is Taia. She speaks up. "We may not be able to be prepared for the games, but we can try."

I glance at Taia, impressed by the determination in her voice and the transformation from the weeping girl at the reaping. But Jetti just nods absently, indicating that she has either not heard or is not convinced.

_She doesn't believe we can win, _I realize, and for seem reason that irritates me. After everyone I know has confided that they think I will be the victor, her disbelief seems foolish. She's younger than Ballard, but still old. After so many years of training tributes who just die in the arena, maybe it's become so common that she can no longer see promise in them. So long as she thinks that way, Taia and I will never get any helpful advice. I need to prove we can win. _I _can win.

As, Collie begins to speak, I interrupt her. I stare Jetti straight in the eye, making sure she is focusing on me. "I am prepared to survive," I say levelly, "Whether you help me or not."

I am not sure what she sees in my eyes, hears in my voice, but something seems to stirs in her. She studies me, her eyes flickering from me to Taia, then back to me. She almost smiles, and I know that whether it was my words or just her finally seeing us, she realizes that we might be worth a shot.

"We'll see," is all she says. Taia glances at me, but looks away to quickly for me to read her expression. Ballard has not said anything yet, but he makes it clear he's not going to by grunting at us, then returning to the table to stare at his wineglass. It is still full.

"He's not very talkative," Jetti explains. She lowers her voice. "The games made him slightly mad; they took his girlfriend, and his sister died in the quarter quell." I look at Ballard with new respect. The last quarter quell was two years before my first reaping, but I remember how scary it was when four tributes were taken, and all of them killed. That was the year district twelve got a victor, I think their second. We've had four victors in district seven; one died of morphling and the other suicide.

Collie happily ignores Ballard's refusal to greet us. "Now that we all know each other, it's time to watch the reapings!" she seems to say everything with a perpetually cheerful smile.

"No thanks, I already went through mine," Taia says nonchalantly, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "One reaping is enough."

I am about to agree with her, But Jetti stops us. "This is different. We're watching the reapings of all the tributes. You need to see what you're up against."

As much as I would love to fall into the cozy sheets of my new bed, Jetti is right. It will help me form my plan. And, sticking with my new motto (something everyone should try): the earlier the better.

We all follow her down the hall to a separate room with a TV and a couch. I plunk myself down in the center of the couch and Taia drops next to me on my left. Collie and Jetti squeeze in on either side of us, and Ballard stands behind us, holding the remote. He turns on the TV.

The reapings are shown in order of the district number, starting with one. A girl with curly yellow hair, bright blue eyes and a confident smile volunteers, as does a boy who shares her yellow hair and expression, but has steely grey eyes. The two from district two are both big and strong, the girl with red locks and the boy with a buzz cut. The tributes from three are nothing special. The girl from four has straight, black hair and olive skin and does not seem happy when she is reaped, but isn't scared. The boy also has black hair, but it is curly and contrasts his pale skin that emphasizes his mean look. Five and six pass quickly, us, eight, the boy from nine is big, black, and strong, the girl from ten is crying and the boy quiet. The girl from eleven is confident as she volunteers, and the two from twelve seem to be more prepared than usual.

As district twelve's reaping draws to a close, Ballard switches off the TV, and the room falls into silence as Taia and I process what we have just seen. The adults all watch us expectantly, Collie's smile still intact. "Well?" Jetti prods us.

I need no further invitation. "District one is vicious and trained, but not broadly built. District two is the opposite, broad and muscular but not very driven. District three is useless. The girl from four is athletic, but not trained, but the boy is both and prepared. Four, five, and eight are useless. The boy from nine is strong and could handle a heavy weapon easily, so he's a threat. The girl from ten is either weak or covering her strength by acting. The boy is silent but strong. I think the girl from eleven may surprise us, and the two from twelve aren't very special, but better than normal."

Silence and stunned expression greet my observations. I wonder if they are surprised by what I said or that I said anything at all.

"You noticed_ all that_?" Collie asks finally, amazement in her voice.

I shrug to hide the pride I suddenly feel. "It's not like it's hidden. I just noticed the obvious."

"The _obvious_?" Taia sounds sarcastic. "All I got was that one, two, and four are careers!"

"Good observations, both of you," Jetti cuts in. She gets up and stands in front of the couch, facing us. "I know today has been very big, and more than a little overwhelming, so you need to get some good rest tonight. Tomorrow we'll be in the Capitol. Ballard and I will continue to mentor you up until the games, so if you need any advice…." Her voice trails off and we plunge into another moment of silence.

Which Collie breaks again. "Well, I'll be going to bed now. Good night."

We all wish her good night, and she leaves in a cloud of green. Taia gets up and follows her out, saying she needs some time to think. I hear the echo as her door slams shut. Ballard wanders off muttering something about…. _Pinecones?_

Finally, only Jetti and I are left in the room. We stay in an awkward silence for a moment, before I stand up, stretch, and turn to face the hall. "Guess I should get going."

Jetti follows me down the hall and stands in my doorway as I enter my room I try to ignore her and start rummaging around in my closet for pajamas. I've heard they're nice. "Octavian," she says, and I stop searching but don't look up, "I have a feeling about you. You're not especially nice, but you're not mean. You're smart. I can see that much. …You may have what it takes to survive."

At this I straighten up and turn to face her slowly. Looking directly into her eyes, I tell her exactly what I believe, what I have to in order to keep going. "I'm not going to survive," I say, "I'm going to win."

She accepts this with a nod and leaves without a word, not meeting my eyes. I wonder what she thinks of my attitude. For a moment, I worry that she thinks I'm full of myself until I remember that I don't care. I finally find myself some soft, blue pajamas and settle down in my bed with a promise to myself to shower tomorrow.

But before I sleep, I think. I wipe all homesick thoughts away, concentrating on what's to come in order to get back home. I reflect on what Jetti has told me, what I've observed from the reapings. An ally would be helpful. Joining the careers is not an option. I ponder over who would make a good ally. The boy from nine? He's strong, good in combat. But he seems guarded, a loner. The tributes from ten are a possibility, minus the girl. The girl from eleven is too sneaky. Twelve is another possibility, although I doubt they know any useful skills.

I think for hours, until finally my plan is set. I will not have an ally. I have every confidence in myself to win, and an ally would eventually have to die. I might as well not get any closer to them than absolutely necessary. Even Taia, though she will be harder to avoid. The only person who I decide to trust is Jetti, and I only mildly trust her, and only because she has already expressed her faith in me. ….Well, a 'feeling' , but close enough.

My decision is so simple, I didn't even need the information from Jetti or the reapings to tell me it is right. There is only one victor. And that victor is me. I'll have to win this alone.

* * *

><p>When I wake up I don't know where I am. I am lying in a soft bed, in a simple, lovely room (can't forget the carpet), and light is peaking in between the cracks in the curtains. As realization dawns, I jump out of bed, instantly alert. Tell someone that by the end of the week they'll be in the hunger games and see if they don't wake up.<p>

True to my promise, I take a shower, enjoying the feel of warm water trickling down my skin, leaving trails in the dirt that coats me. Once I am cleaner than I ever have been, I get dressed in a grey t-shirt and blue jeans. No need to get extravagant. After checking my list of things-I-forget-to-do, I leave my room in search of some breakfast, which takes me to the dining room.

When I arrive, everyone is already there, seated, and eating. Collie looks up with a smile and exclaims, "Ah! There you are! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up!"

"Well, I'm here," I say, looking around the table as I grab a seat. At least I didn't miss breakfast. It occurs to me that I'd better change my sleeping habits for the hunger games.

"_This _is food?" I ask in amazement, staring at the delicacies that surround me.

They are absolutely beautiful. That is the only way to describe it. The food comes in different colors, different shapes. There are bright, exotic fruits and warm, brown bread dripping with icing. Sausages, muffins, and something round, light, and delicious looking are displayed on different platters. The smell that they exude is heavenly, and I wonder what more I could want in life. Compared to district seven meals, this isn't even imaginable.

Collie and Jetti laugh, and even Ballard smiles a bit. He seems more down to earth today. Taia grins. "I know. It's to die for."

I grab a stack of the fluffy, round cakes. "This is the reason I'm winning the hunger games."

I say it jokingly, but it still has a serious effect. Everyone stops smiling and I go back to eating, cursing myself for breaking my oath of silence to my fellow tribute. I pour a thick, brown sauce over the cakes and add a little butter, then pick it up with my hands. I take a teensy bite.

My taste buds go crazy as the sweet sauce, the butter and the cake combine into one other-worldy taste. I take another bite, closing my eyes as I savor my new favorite food. I can only think one thing. "Mmmmm."

"Do you like it?" Collie asks. She smiles when I nod, but her lip curls as she stares pointedly at my sticky hands. I shove the rest of it into my mouth, grab a napkin, and make a show about wiping them off. Then I grab a fork and knife and force myself to take small, careful bites, which appeases Collie. From here on in, I need to be as likeable as possible, even to her.

"It's a pancake," Jetti explains, grabbing some for herself. We all eat and finish breakfast quietly while Collie babbles on about how we're going to love the Capitol, and how fabulous we'll look for our chariot rides tonight.

"It's okay that you're not very pretty," she tells Taia, "You're stylists are amazing! They'll fix you right up!"

Taia nearly chokes on her sausage, and I stare at Collie, wondering if she meant it. She appears not to notice me or the hateful looks cast her way by Taia, as she continues on about clothes and fashion.

Finally, when it's obvious Collie's oblivious, Taia blurts out, "I am so pretty!"

Collie looks at her, surprised. "You look alright, dear. Anyway, as I was saying, my best look is in purple, but green does me fine..."She leaves the room with the excuse that she has to make some adjustments to her eye shadow.

Jetti pats Taia's arm. "Ignore her. You look fine, and that's enough for your stylists to work with. The important thing is getting you ready for the games. Are you finished eating?"

This last question is directed at me, as everyone else has been long done. I set down my roll and stand up, giving her a nod. Jetti orders both of us to stand against the far wall. We do so, facing our two mentors, standing about a meter apart.

Ballard and Jetti circle us, taking stock of everything they see. Finally, they whisper to each other, casting us occasional glances. In district seven we aren't fed extravagantly, but fairly well. I have lines that show my muscle from chopping trees, but my body is not built for a lot if it. Taia is thinner than me, with some muscle but not a lot. Taia begins to fidget after a few minutes. "So?"

They look up as though surprised that we are still here. Shockingly, it is not Jetti who answers, but Ballard. His voice is surprisingly low, rough from lack of use. "You are both strong, but not muscular. Neither of you are exceptionally tall." He nods to me. "You have your looks going for you, and your eyes, but you can't rely on them to save you. Tell me, do either of you have any special skills?"

_I know every type of berry,_ I think. _I know the uses for every tree. I can start a fire in ten different ways. I can survive._ I say none of this. It is all part of my newly formed plan to keep quiet about these natural skills and instead focus on my offensive, weaponry skills, of which I am average. But when the games start, my ability to survive will give me a serious advantage, along with the element of surprise.

As I keep silent, Taia speaks up. "I'm pretty good with knives," she says uncertainly.

"What can you do with them?" Ballard gaze is fixed on her, and she seems uncomfortable under it, but covers it up with a frown.

"Uh, I can throw them. My aim is pretty good."

"Hmm," Ballard seems to digest this. "When you get to the training center, work on that. But don't forget to try some other weapons. If your aim is good, use weapons that use that. And you, boy? What do you do?"

I rack my brain for something I'm good at. Something that's not survival. "Well, I use an axe. Knives are good too." It doesn't tell them much, but I don't know much. I usually don't kill people.

"Okay, then just find a weapon you like," he says doubtfully. Works for me. "Any survival skills?"

"I know a few plants, just the basics," says Taia with a shrug.

Everyone turns to me. I just say "No."

Taia's eyes bore into me. She knows I'm lying. I'm from District seven, I have to have something. But she doesn't say anything. Instead, Ballard tells us something about how the odds don't seem in our favor, then walks away. Fine. I don't need his advice. I already have my plan.

Jetti claps her hands to get our attention. Taia and I jump, startled. "We'll be in the Capitol within an hour," she says, "When we arrive you will be brought to the remake center, where your stylist and prep team will get you ready for the chariot ride tonight. Try to listen to them and be polite; they know what they're doing."

Taia opens her mouth, but Jetti speaks. Her voice is low, her stare scrutinizing. "I know you weren't telling us all of your skills. Both of you," Taia turns her head, "Ballard and I may be the only people you can trust in this entire production. No, you _have_ to trust us, and tell us everything you can do. It might save your life. We control what you get from your sponsors. Remember that."

She, too, leaves the room. I am left alone with Taia. She turns to me.

"What can you do?" she asks, her gaze intense. I shrug, try to walk away. She follows me to the window.

"Why won't you talk to me?" she persists, after repeating her question twice. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," I say. Taia is so surprised that I actually answered she is stunned into silence, but not for long.

"Then why won't you talk to me?" she asks again, her eyes narrowing.

I sigh. "Why bother? Look, I don't want us to get close. I don't want to make friends. Face it: one of us will die in the arena. If we're friends, it will only be that much harder."

"Oh." Her voice is small. "Can we…just accept each other? Like, talk and stuff until the games, and then we won't anymore. I just don't want to go through this alone." There is a slight tremble to her voice.

I sigh again, but my soft side wins over. I hold out my hand. "'til the games."

She takes it, shakes it, but doesn't let go. "'til the games," she repeats softly.

We stand there in the window for a long time, until finally she lets my hand go.

* * *

><p>The Capitol is one giant rainbow of flashing lights, moving images, and bright colors. Taia and I press our faces against the window as we take in the bizarre sight and witness the Capitol fashion as hunger game fans that line the streets cheer as we pass. Immediately, I put on a charming smile and wave brightly to them. They go wild. Taia stares at me like I'm crazy, but joins when I motion for her to do the same.<p>

We are playing the crowd. My plan is already starting.

After what seems like forever, we arrive at the station and are whisked off the train by peacekeepers, who take us to what must be the remake center. Taia and I are separated. I am propelled into a room and left there.

Soon three typical Capitol citizens walk in, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. I watch them curiously, and one leads me over to a chair and directs me to sit. Then my prep team's work begins.

They scrub all the dirt, dust and sweat off my body, not to mention my skin, after I strip down. It's odd, being naked and them being there, but I decide to ignore it when I realize they really don't care.

"Ohhhh-you have such lovely hair!" squeals Mickey. She is completely pink, even her skin and eyes.

"You're skin's alright," comments Pepe, who is a black and white photo. "I've seen worse."

"But the best is your eyes," Cammo finishes. She has a strong Capitol accent, and her body is covered in colorful tattoos that even creep onto her eye lids. "They are the brightest green I've ever seen. I can't believe they're natural!"

"Thank-you," I say mildly then add generously, "I'm sure I owe it all to you."

They go crazy over that, exclaiming about how nice I am, and how lovely my stylist, Shona, will make me look. They don't appear very intelligent, but I am polite to them anyway, even though they are often very annoying. I am slightly relieved when they go, waving and promising that Shona will come to see me soon.

It doesn't take long for Shona to make an appearance. She is tall, with white skin, straight black hair, and a blood red dress, appropriate for the hunger games. Her lips are the same color. Her eyes are an icy blue, and there is an air of no-nonsense about her. Again I am aware of my nudity, but the said who witness it again show no sign of caring. I wonder if maybe the Capitol has a different view on these sorts of things.

Shona wastes no time with introductions but immediately starts on my makeup. Thankfully I'm not a girl, so I don't need much (I don't need ANY, but I have orders not to contradict my stylist) but still it takes a while. When she is finished she does something to my hair, but I'm not sure what. Then she has me close my eyes while she hands me pants and a shirt. She steers me towards a mirror.

"Look," she commands, and I open my eyes.

I look like something from the woods. Exotic with a natural beauty. My skin is darker, a dark golden color with a wood pattern on it. My pale hair is streaked with a bright emerald green that matches my eyes. My pants are a dark brown, like dark chocolate, but they look as if someone took dead leaves and sewed them together. They fit tightly. My shirt is really a vest that also looks like leaves, but this time they are a brilliant emerald green. My shoes are dark brown, like the earth, and my token hangs around my neck.

I love it.

After I thank Shona, complimenting her on such a wonderful job, she almost smiles.

"We don't have much time," she says, "You need to get down to the stables." I didn't realize it was so late, although I did know a lot of time had passed. I had been in the remake center for hours.

Shona leads me to the elevator and we ride down to the stables, where almost all of the other tributes are waiting, walking around or sitting in their chariots. Shona leaves me, and I can't help feeling abandoned and lost. I don't know which chariot is mine! Then I feel stupid as I realize it's obviously the one that looks like a tree.

"Hi," I turn around and see the girl from district four standing behind me, wearing a blue fish scale dress. Her black hair is up in a bun, and her soft brown eyes look at me shyly. She's smells like the sea, salty and fresh.

I can't decide if I should say hi or ignore her (I'm going to end up killing her, let's not make this personal), but I settle for an acknowledging nod, not wanting to be rude, but hoping she'll go away.

She doesn't. She takes it as an invitation. "I'm Violet."

I consider saying 'no, you're blue', but end up saying, "Octavian."

She smiles, and when she does it makes her seem prettier than any outfit a stylist could put her in ever would. "That's a neat name. Does it mean something?"

I am confused. "Mean something?" I repeat. Since when do names mean something?

"I mean are you named after someone," she explains, "I'm named after my mother's favorite flower. Violets grow everywhere in district four. They're so pretty."

I imagine district seven covered in tiny purple flowers. "That's nice. My name isn't special."

She shrugs, but there is a sparkle in her eye. "Maybe not. Maybe Octavian was some ancient king over the empire here before Panem even came. Maybe his name is the only part that survived!"

She is talking excitedly, and I am astounded by her imagination. I don't want to burst her bubble. So I say, "Yeah, maybe."

"Octavian!" I turn around and spot Taia wading through the crowd, coming towards me. I give a small wave to show I've heard her. She is wearing a dress that is sewn from leaves, like my outfit, but hers is in the color of leaves at fall. It sets off her blue eyes and dark freckles. She reminds me of what I think an elf would look like.

Taia eyes Violet in that way girls do, sizing her up.

"Violet!" a boy calls to her. "The chariots are rolling!"

Violet runs away without another word.

"Who was that?" Taia asks.

"Violet."

Taia rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I gathered that. I meant-,"

"We'd better get on the chariots," I interrupt her. I don't like the way she looked at Violet. I remind myself that I don't care. We go to our chariot just as the chariot from district one leaves the stables. The tributes are sparkly and shiny, like jewels. And knives.

Our chariot starts rolling and I grip the side tightly. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me Taia is doing the same. Her face is pale. I force myself to take a deep breath. Calm. Slowly, a lazy grin spreads across my face, as though I haven't a care in the world. It stays there as we emerge from the stables and plunge into the streets of the Capitol.

Loud. At first that is all I can think, as screaming Capitol citizens cheer and call the names of the tributes. Color. All of citizens are dressed in bright, bizarre costumes that clash with whoever stands next to them. I avert my gaze from them to the chariots in front of me. District one is in the lead, bright and shiny as always. The chariot for district two reminds me of its tributes; big, dark and menacing, but not very bright. I spot Violet next to her district partner, smiling and blowing kisses to the screaming crowd.

I turn back to face the audience and, grin still in place, lazily flick my hand at them in a half wave and blow a kiss of my own. It feels stupid and I won't be doing it again, but the crowd loves it. I can't see the chariots behind me, but I have a feeling that they aren't as spectacular as the ones in front. Images projected overhead confirm my suspicions, and I catch a shot of Taia and I. We look incredible, like mystical, woodland creatures. There is no doubt that we have attracted some attention.

President Kane gives his usual speech and I honestly have no idea what he's saying as I'm not really listening. He seems to talk for longer than usual. Finally it draws to a close and we circle the square one last time in our chariots. Before we disappear into the stable I grin at them one last time.

Look at me, pleasing people.

* * *

><p>That evening, we all gather together in a room to watch the chariot rides, and again I smile at our entrance. The announcers have a lot to say about us, our clothes, how hot we look. I can't help but agree. Collie comments that we look delightful. Jetti says this will improve our chance of sponsors. Ballard mutters that we may not be useless after all. I thank Shona again for the costume, and also thank Sky, Taia's stylist. We watch the tributes parade around the square, occasionally commenting on them or their outfit.<p>

But mostly, I watch for the chariot from district four, and the shining smile Violet gives the Capitol. From the constant stream of comments I learn that the name of her partner is Rory. But all I can think is how she seemed so happy before the chariot rides, talking to me like we were normal. As if we weren't about to participate in the hunger games, forced to kill each other.

It's not until hours later, seconds before I fall asleep, when it hits me that I was happy too.

* * *

><p><strong>See you soon!<strong>


	3. Three Days to Train

When I come to breakfast the next morning, Ballard is the only one there. I'm not too early, so everyone should be here soon, but alone with Ballard is a little unnerving. He is sitting at the table, eating. He doesn't seem to notice me. I sit down opposite him and grab some food.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, when I realize we're not alone. There is a young man standing quietly in the corner of the room, so quietly I didn't notice. I point to him. "Who is he?"

Ballard glances up. "He's an Avox."

"Oh." I'd heard of them. "He can't talk?"

"Could you talk without a tongue?" he challenges, and I bite my lip from saying something back. I shouldn't be fighting with my mentor. But that doesn't mean I have to like him.

"Boy, are you ready for training today?"

"I guess so." I'll be training with weapons all three days, so I don't reveal my knowledge of survival. A sudden thought hits me. What if the arena is completely different from what I'm used to? I wouldn't know how to survive in a jungle. I decide to make a quick stop at the edible plants station to give me an idea of the environment.

Ballard grunts. "You need to be well trained if you're going to survive."

"Well, the careers are the only ones who train, aren't they?" I fire back. "None of us are a match for them." So not true.

Ballard looks at me for a while before saying quietly, "Yet even district twelve has a victor."

I think he's trying to tell me something. Training doesn't prepare you for the games? That can't be right. He just lectured me on the importance of training. Besides, it's obvious which districts get the most victors. Maybe training won't make you win, but it sure does help.

I think that Ballard is about to say something by the way he's watching me, so intensely, or maybe I am, but at that moment Collie chooses to make an appearance and the moment is lost.

"Big, big day!" she says brightly, practically bouncing over to the table. "Training begins!"

Despite the fact that neither Ballard nor I are in the mood for small talk, Collie happily makes enough for all three of us with my occasional "mmm" or "uhhuh". By the time Jetti and Taia arrive, Ballard looks about ready to strangle Collie if she says one more word about how nice he would look in pink.

After breakfast, Ballard and Jetti (well, mostly Jetti) wish us luck on our training and run through a list of weapons they want us each to try. I get a spear, a sword, and a machete. Taia gets a bow and arrow, darts, and daggers.

"We've decided that it's up to you if you want to join an alliance or create your own," Jetti adds. "Both have been proven successful. Ballard won his games alone and I used an alliance. What will you choose?"

"I'm solo," I say immediately.

Taia thinks for a moment then shrugs. "I don't know. Just so long as I don't end up with the careers." She gives a shudder, and I can't help but agree.

"You should really decide," Jetti begins. "Why don't you stay alone until someone approaches you about an alliance, and you can decide from there."

Taia agrees to this, and Collie ushers the two of us to the elevator. She says she will accompany us down to the Training Center, which she does, shoving us out of the elevator when we reach the floor none to gently. The doors shut behind us, and we are stuck in the training center.

Most of the other tributes have already arrived. They are either practicing weaponry or other skills at different stations, or wandering around aimlessly, wondering what to try first. Everyone is wearing the same, plain clothes as Taia and I.

"Should we do survival or weapons?" Taia asks me. Her hair is pulled back into two ponytails, making her look younger.

"What together?"

She shoots me an exasperated look, then relents. "Or we can go alone. Geez, what happened to acquaintances?"

I give her a small smile. "Fine. We can eat lunch together."

She agrees to this and walks off to the dart station. I saunter over to the edible plants, where the instructor greets me with a nod. However, I soon realize I know all and more than what the station has to offer and quickly abandon it. Good: at least I know I'm in a familiar environment.

This leaves me three days (well two since the last is in front of the game makers) of weapon training. Oh joy. I walk over to the sword station, where the boy from district one is whipping the instructor's butt. Well, neither is winning, but it's obvious that they are both masters at it. They look deep in concentration so I take a sword and practice some moves of my own.

I'm not bad with a sword. After all, I have used one before in district seven when I was training for the games. Not a lot, but enough to know the basics. I would never be a career, so I figured why try to become one. Just know enough to be prepared.

The instructor and the boy from district one finish their duel and the instructor comes over to watch me go through my exercises. Judging from the boy's murderous expression I know who won.

"Good posture," the instructor comments. "Looks like you've got the basics covered."

I nod. I spend the next hour or so at the sword station, learning defensive and offensive moves. By the time I move on, I'm fairly confident in my new skill, though I'm not as good as the boy from district one. Not by far.

I walk over to the knives station. The boy from two and the girl from eleven are there, two people I don't like, though I remind myself not to pass judgment, especially since it's all based on the reaping. I tell myself to at least wait until the interviews to start hating people, but it's not really my fault. I just either like you or I don't like you, nothing in between. I've been called prejudice multiple times.

The knives instructor I like. He immediately shows me every kind of knife I've ever dreamed of, and I instantly fall in love with the machete. It's perfect; a sword and dagger wrapped in one, with a wicked curve. I spend the rest of the morning training with it, not stopping until lunch is called.

I grab a sandwich, a normal looking one, and sit down by myself at a table. Taia plops down next to me with an interesting green soup.

"Hi," she says, looking irritated, "How did your morning go?" she doesn't wait for me to answer before continuing, "Mine was okay, until that girl from district one came along, Pressure or something-,"

"Precious."

Taia waves her hand dismissively. "Whatever. Anyway, I was throwing knives pretty well, and then she comes up to me and starts talking, and I just ignore her, but then she starts saying how she can throw a knife better than me, and then I told her to prove it, and-,"

"Is there a point to this story?" I blurt out, and Taia glares at me.

"_Anyway_, the _point_ is that she's really good with aim, and I can't decide if I'm better than her or not." She pokes at her soup looking really depressed.

I stare at her incredulously. "That's it? You think she's better than you?"

"Well, you wouldn't understand," she says with a sniff.

"Taia, they're _careers_. They've been training all their lives. Of course they're better than us!" I think of the boy from district one at the sword station.

"Oh, shut up," she says, and we finish our lunch in silence. I remember belatedly, once again, that I'm not supposed to try to talk to her, that I'm supposed to be the one saying shut up, and that there is no way we'll be together in the games.

Way to stick with the plan.

My eyes wander along the tables. Most tributes are eating alone. The boy from twelve and the two from ten are together, so I assume they've made an alliance. I remember the girl's weepy reaping and decide that she's stronger than she appeared. Besides them, the only people together are me and Taia and the careers. My heart sinks as I realize that Violet's a career. My prejudice is back.

After lunch I leave the knives station and try my hand at obstacles, archery (not my ability), and finally spear throwing. I've managed to hit within six inches of the target five times in a row when I sense someone watching me. I look up to see the girl from district four, Violet, over at the fire starting station, her eyes on me. When she sees me noticing she gives me a tiny wave. I stare for a moment, then turn my back to her and throw my spear as hard as I can. It hits dead center of the target with a thwack. I can't help feeling pleased, even if it was completely by luck. For some reason, I hope Violet saw it.

When training ends Taia and I take the elevator up to the seventh floor where our mentors are waiting, along with Collie. They wait until we are seated in the dining room, surrounded by food, to ask us.

"So how did it go?" Collie is, as usual, the one to break the quiet when it's obvious neither Taia nor I am about to break it.

Taia immediately launches into a long and detailed explanation of her day. "I'm pretty good at archery," she says, "But I'd rather throw things, like darts and daggers. I also learned some edible plants and fire starting skills. Tomorrow I think I might try swords."

Jetti and Collie assure Taia that she's done well, then everyone turns to me. I sit quietly and eat my potatoes. 'Well?" asks Ballard.

"It was fine," I say casually. I'm not in the mood for explaining, but they continue to stare at me expectantly so I add, "I practiced sword skills, used a machete, ran some obstacles, and threw some spears." I refuse to say anything more or go into detail, so they finally leave me alone.

"Tomorrow you'll be training again," Ballard confirms, "Try to perfect one of your skills to show to the game makers. Lots of little skills don't make much of an impression." Suddenly he barks a laugh, though I don't see what's funny and nobody else does either. It's not a nice laugh; it has a bitter edge.

After dinner Jetti suggests we go to bed early. When Taia starts to complain that she doesn't want to we are told to go to our rooms _immediately._

"Ballard and I need to discuss matters," Jetti says as an explanation, not adding _about you._

I leave the room without a word and Taia follows reluctantly. I had been planning on leaving early anyway; now I had an excuse. Taia walks next to me and tries to make conversation, but I'm not really paying attention so she soon stops.

"Well bye," she says when we get to her door. She stops but I just keep walking on.

"Bye," I say softly. It's about a fifty-fifty chance she heard me. I honestly don't know if I want her to.

I shower and dress before sitting silently on my bed, staring at a wall. I'm not thinking, just staring, no thoughts entering my head, and it's kind of nice. It's very different from the games, where I know I'll never be able to stop thinking, not until I'm out.

I don't know how long I sit there until I begin to feel reality slowly sink in. My first though is _oh no, the world's back_, but then I decide it's for the better. For now.

For the rest of the night I sit and think. I run through scenarios that I might meet in the games and review past ones, focusing on the methods the victors used. Smarts. Elusiveness. Speed. Strength. Some (a lot) seemed to be at least a little bit crazy. This calms me, since I know some people in district seven (including Sadie and Jon) call me slightly eccentric. Good: I fit in. But then I wonder if I want to fit in, when I realize that most of the victors became crazy axe murderers, and even the victors from non-career districts acted like their fellows from districts one, two, and four.

_I'll have to be different,_ I decide. I will win the hunger games my way. I hope the game makers like creativeness. I fall asleep and dream that Collie is a tree that's chasing me. Once she catches me I'm thrown into the hunger games, where I start chasing the first tree I see but when kill it, it turns into Taia, then Violet, then finally my mother. I wake up shaking, and spend the rest of the night wondering how the tree ran and that if trees move this hunger games I am in big trouble. When dawn breaks and I reflect on my recent thoughts I wonder if I was entirely there. Being from district seven, I usually like trees.

Now I finally realize that I am extremely stupid and drop the subject.

I shower in something called 'strawberry surprise' and find myself covered in a pink goo. Panicking, I grabbed at least fifty of the hundreds of buttons, ending in hard jet of water in my eye. When I decide to just stop showering I find that parts of my body smell differently than others. My left leg smells like vanilla, and my right still smells like strawberries. I spend a while sitting on the bathroom floor sniffing my suddenly interesting limbs. My right arm is my favorite: it smells like something sickly sweet, and I am immediately addicted to it.

I go down to the dining room to have breakfast a while later and discover what scent my arm held: sugar. It is in a little jar with a mini spoon so you could put it in your tea. I grab the jar and begin to spoon it into my mouth, while Collie stares at me in shock.

"I'm using a spoon," I remind her, mouth full of sugar, thinking of how badly I want to ditch manners and dump the sugar into my mouth.

Half an hour later, I decide a jar of sugar is not such a good idea, and as Collie, Jetti, and Taia talk about pets, I curl up in a ball on my chair as my stomach beats against my insides. I grab some tea and drink it dark; it's supposed to help with stomach aches, though mine feels a little worse than your average ache.

"Get up Octavian," Jetti scolds, "You need to get to the training center. You're late as it is."

I really don't want to train right now. I roll over so that I am not facing her. "Octavian is not home. Go away."

Jetti says she doesn't believe me and that I'm acting stupid, which is totally unlike me, while Taia starts saying that that's not entirely unlike me. I will have to have a talk with her later.

I am now facing Ballard, who notices my shade of green. He gives a hoot of laughter. "Boy's 'ad too much sugar! He's gonna blow!"

I sit up and glare at him. "I am not going to barf. And I'm right: I'm not home right now." Which is very true. As is the fact that I did have too much sugar, but this I don't add.

Once Jetti assures me I am able to train without being home I am sent to the training center with Taia. My stomach is already starting to feel better, and I'm thankful for my strong digestive system.

Before we arrive, I tell Taia that I am certainly not stupid.

"Sometimes," she admits, "But sometimes you act like a retard." She doesn't elaborate, so I just glare at her until we arrive and are forced to separate. I am not a retard. I just hide my intelligence behind a wall of stupidity.

Lunch time should be interesting.

I make my way over to the knives station. I've decided that my 'perfected skill' – as Ballard calls it- will be the machete. I spend the better part of the morning training with it in combat techniques, until I know it as an extension of my body.

"You're good at this," the instructor comments, after we spar for a while.

Good. Now that I have perfected the art of machete combat, I need to find a more practical use for my machete. I take a minute to sweep my gaze around the room, my eyes settling on Taia throwing knives a little ways away. I palm my machete and walk over to her. Her arm is arched back, knife in hand, concentration on her next throw. I follow her angle to her target. When I am a few feet behind her I reel my arm back and launch my machete. It sails past her and hits dead center of the target she was aiming for.

She is so startled she drops the knife she is holding, still posed to throw, and whirls around to face me, her usual short pigtails bobbing like startled ducks.

"Octavian," she says, surprise in her voice as well as expression, "I didn't know you could throw like that."

I didn't either, but don't say that. I had meant only to get her attention, maybe surprise her, but not like this. I guess she's not the only one with good aim.

"I need to work on throwing," I say, and she laughs drily at this but doesn't complain, so we stand side by side as we throw, me my machete and she her knives. I like it this way, silent but not so alone.

However, Taia is not the only one who has witnessed my rather awesome feat. The boy from district one, Gold something, saunters over to stand next to me, watching as I attack my target. I am wary of his presence but decide not to show it, and keep my attention on my target. I pick up another machete, feeling the boy's eyes on me as I line up my arm, preparing for the throw.

"You've got a lot of talent," he says casually. I don't say anything, trying to ignore him, but he continues, "We could use that in the careers. There's a spot open."

For a moment I am caught wondering why there is a spot open, doing a quick head count to make sure all the usual career districts are there, until I realize he's just asked me to join the careers. Taia has stopped throwing knives to watch my reaction rather intensely.

I'd like to say I handled his offer well.

I spin to face him so fast his expression is one of surprise. My face, full of fury, is only inches from his, and in my hatred for such a repulsive proposal I feel bile rise in my throat. "I would _never_ join the careers," I spit, "I don't need help. I'm winning this alone." I wish I could use different words, but I honestly hadn't been expecting this and didn't have time to prepare. A little late I remember the machete in my hand. I realize I must look pretty threatening, and there is a small amount of fear in Gold's eyes.

However, the fear quickly changes to anger. I have just stood him up. "Fine," he hisses, "Then you will be the first to die." Back straight, he marches stiffly away, leaving me alone with Taia.

"You handled that well," she observes. "You know, the careers have a lot to offer, if you're aiming to become a killing machine."

"Shut up," I growl, throwing my machete at the target hard, again striking the center with a satisfying thwack. She shuts up, but I notice she casts occasional glances at me, like she still can't believe I did that, but ignore them. There's something in her eyes, though, that I can't miss. Respect?

Just throw your knives, I remind myself. But I can't completely miss the glances from both Taia and Gold that say at least three people won't forget this.

Lunch is quiet, which normally would please me but today although I have a lot to think about I need a distraction. As I watch Taia eat the same, funny green soup as yesterday, wondering how it can be that good yet look so bad, I feel a hand touch my shoulder. It is light, no more than a brush, but I whip around quickly to look into Violet's big brown eyes.

"Hi Octavian," she says, and Taia's head jerks up so she can scrutinize Violet. "You sure made Gold mad." She's carrying her food tray that holds three different kinds of muffins. She must be on her way to her table.

I keep forgetting she's a career. I look over to her home table, where Gold's sour expression is reflected in the other careers'. They are watching us, me specifically, and I can feel the hatred from here. "It's not like he tried to be nice." I neglect to mention I didn't try to stop my anger either. I decide that wouldn't really help the situation.

Violet laughs, a soft, tinkling laugh. "Yeah, he's not very nice _ever_."

Again, she leaves before I can get another word in.

"Ugh, why does that career keep coming over here?" complains Taia. We watch as Violet joins her fellows who immediately glance over at our table. They obviously know she was talking to us. I turn back to eating my bun.

"She's not so bad," I say after swallowing. Violet does seem nice for a career. More normal. But Taia refuses to allow this.

"Oh, shut up."

After a very normal afternoon of practice that I spend with Taia, along with the occasional evil glances from the careers who seem to have decided I am their worst enemy, we arrive back on floor seven to our waiting mentors and escort. We all have an elaborate capitol dinner, at which time Ballard again asks us how our training went.

"Fine," Taia says, and I echo, "Fine."

They stare at us, until Ballard just shakes his head. "Oh fine then, if you really don't want our help, we don't need to give you it."

"Fine," I say. It seems to be becoming our familiar response. Taia looks less sure that this is fine, but she doesn't say otherwise.

The rest of dinner is filled with Collie's small talk, mostly about her. Her clothes, her makeup, the poem she once wrote when she was ten. In a way it's nice that there is talk to fill the silence, but Collie can chatter away about the most irrelevant, un-life changing things.

Finally, Jetti puts a halt to the small talk. "Tomorrow is your last day of training. You won't get to train like the last two days; instead, you'll get fifteen minutes in front of the game makers to show them what you've learned. Try to make a good impression on them; it could help you in the games."

After this, no one has anything of importance to say, although Taia announces she has not made an alliance with anyone, but I already knew that.

"That's fine," Jetti says, "A lot of people don't have alliances." I think she's looking at me.

We are sent to bed early (again) but this time Taia says nothing at all as she stops next to her door. She appears to be deep in thought, so I let it pass, even though my hand goes up in a small wave that I doubt she sees. I continue on to my room.

I need something to show the game makers. It has to be good, but not incredible, and not anything that could give away my survival skills. Something with the machete, something with throwing, something that will leave an impression….

I shower before pacing my room for a while, before forcing myself into bed. But I don't mind, because I have an idea, and it just might work.


End file.
